


Wrath | I Am Pain, Hear Me Roar!

by Drarrymadhatter



Series: Seven Shades of Sin [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger, Angry Sex, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Cheating, Community: Seven Shades of Drarry, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Says Fuck A Lot, Humor, Infidelity (not Drarry), M/M, Mood Cloud, Obsession, POV Harry Potter, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Semi-Public Sex, Seven Deadly Sins, Stalking, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23331367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drarrymadhatter/pseuds/Drarrymadhatter
Summary: Harry’s boyfriend cheats on him, his magic and temper go kablooie, mood clouds abound throughout the Ministry, the Magical Maintenance staff are morons, Harry has a secret file, and ends up trapped in a lift with Malfoy for hours. What could possibly go wrong?Wrath— the desire for grave harm, or sufferings of misfortune or evil, upon someone else.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Seven Shades of Sin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677472
Comments: 72
Kudos: 354
Collections: Seven Shades of Drarry





	1. Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Sin anthology](/series/1677472), the first in a series of planned collaborative projects within the [Seven Shades of Drarry](/collections/Seven_Shades_of_Drarry) collective.
> 
> Thanks to everyone in the Seven Shades of Drarry collaboration for all their support and amazing ideas. I can't wait until the next collaboration!
> 
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2Jg0tLy); seven songs for each of the seven fics included in the collection.

Harry closed the case file with a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. Merlin, but he was exhausted. He’d been away on a special op to intercept a Muggle slavery ring and had just managed to wrap up the case. Long days and headaches — it had been a hell of a week. He forced himself out of his chair and stretched his arms above his head. The case was done, the reports were finished, and he could finally go home.

The thought brought an instant smile to his face as he thought of his boyfriend waiting for him. He’d only been with Jay for a couple of months but things were moving fast. Jay had already practically moved into Harry’s flat on Oxford street, easily spending at least five days a week there. Chances were, Jay would already be in the flat, waiting for an owl with Harry’s return time. Last time, Jay had laid out the perfect surprise for him — champagne on ice, rose petals on the bed — and suddenly Harry was itching to get back to him. On impulse, he grabbed his travelling cloak and overnight bag and made his way out of his office and down to the main Apparition point. He would grab food and wine from Waitrose and make Jay a lovely dinner. Sort of a ‘thanks for putting up with my crazy work hours’ gesture. As he vanished with a pop, he was grinning widely as he mentally planned the perfect evening.

* * *

Just over an hour later, Harry popped into the living area of his flat, laden with Waitrose bags. Grinning expectantly, he put his many bags down and scanned the room for Jay. It was empty. A quick glance around the rest of downstairs confirmed Jay wasn’t there. Strange. Harry quickly took off his boots and travelling cloak and headed up the stairs, easily taking two at a time as his feeling of unease grew.

Harry paused at the top of the stairs and glanced around, noting there was music coming from the master suite. Blowing out a relieved breath, Harry relaxed and smiled to himself as he pictured Jay waiting for him in bed. He licked his lips in anticipation and slowly walked towards the closed door, hand resting for a second on the handle. Lust was already pooling in his stomach and he shivered, aching for a release from the stress of the last week. Running his tongue over his lips again, he pushed open the door, only to suddenly freeze in the doorway, all traces of happiness on his face melting into horror and disbelief.

Jay was lying on top of the bed completely naked, grunting loudly as he ground his hips up into the completely naked woman who was straddled across his straining thighs. The woman’s wails filled the room as she threw her head back in pleasure, her long brown waves brushing Jay’s fingers where they bit into the creamy flesh of her buttocks. Jay’s eyes were on the woman’s breasts as they bobbed and bounced with each pump of his hips, as if mesmerised with each movement they made. The slap of skin on skin punctuated the gasps and moans coming from the wanton couple. Neither of them had noticed they had an audience.

Harry closed his eyes and ears against the scene, hoping against all reason that he was hallucinating. This couldn’t be real. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it all. There just had to be! Harry opened his eyes slowly, watching as the scene in front of him threatened to overwhelm his senses. He forced himself to look, really look, at the man he’d been falling in love with, as if seeing him for the first time. Slowly, the feeling of disbelief was being replaced with fury, boiling up from the very tips of his toes and vibrating throughout his entire body, awakening his magic. It was almost as if he could feel sparks zinging the tips of his fingers. _Breathe_ , he thought to himself, _just breathe and count. Breathe in…one…two…three…breathe out…one…two…three…breathe in…one…two…_ until Harry was suddenly helpless as the tight coil of rage inside him boiled over.

A fearsome crash rent the room as the windows and balcony doors shattered, sending thousands of glass shards flying through the air. The curtains whipped and whirled as a fierce wind tore around, causing chairs to topple and trinkets to smash against the oak floor. Jay and the woman had broken apart at the first sound of the glass breaking and were now huddled together on the bed, trying to protect their heads from the flying debris. Jay was screaming something, but Harry couldn't make sense of it. He couldn’t focus over the relentless sound of blood pounding in his ears. His heart thundered dangerously against his chest, struggling to pump the sheer volume of fire and magic around his body.

He looked at the woman, cowering in a ball as Jay tried to cover her with as much of his body as he could. An act of protection. The sort of thing one does for someone they love. Something Harry would have done for Jay. Harry let out a feral growl and surged forward, slamming Jay away from the woman and into the wall with a flick of his wrist. He lunged towards the woman and wrapped his fingers in her hair, dragging her backwards off the bed and pinning her face-first against the opposite wall to Jay. The woman was screaming, her fingers scraping frantically at the wall in a bid to escape. Why bother? Thought Harry dimly. His vision shimmered as he pinned her, everything was so removed like watching television with bad reception.

Hazily, Harry registered a hand on his arm. Jay was standing beside him, saying something, trying to pull Harry’s arm away from the woman. He struggled to focus on anything except the anger inside him. _Breathe Harry. Breathe in…one…two…three…and breathe out…one…two…three…_ and the sounds of the room suddenly assaulted his ears, as if someone had just pressed unmute. Gusts of wind were still howling around the room in short angry bursts. The woman’s sobs were echoing pitifully around them as Jay tried to talk Harry down out of his rage, as though he was trying to soothe some kind of wild animal.

“Harry. Harry, please. Just let her go and we can talk. Harry? It’s not what you think. Please. You don’t want to do this.”

At those words, Harry looked Jay in the eye. “Who is she? How long?”

Jay let out a sigh of relief that Harry had calmed enough to talk to him and took a step closer. “She’s no one, Harry, I swear. Please, let her go so we can talk.”

“I asked how long this has been going on. How long, Jay?” Harry shouted the last words, startling Jay into a small jump and causing the woman to sob louder into the wall.

“I’ve never met her before. Honestly, it was a one-off. I’m so sorry Harry, _so_ sorry. Please, let her go and we’ll talk. I’ll make this up to you. I promise, please.”

Harry narrowed his eyes as he watched Jay babble at him, how he kept patting Harry’s arm and flicking his eyes frantically between Harry and the woman. Jay was lying, that much was obvious, and Harry resolved to get to the truth himself. Jay was so distracted by the situation that entering his mind was effortless. Harry focused on what he was looking for, sifting through memories of Jay and the woman meeting up countless times. Drinks at a local pub. Fancy dinners in a restaurant Harry didn’t recognise. Entire days wrapped around each other in bed. Harry pushed even further and saw their first meeting in a coffee shop. The woman had accidentally spilt her coffee onto Jay, and as they both cleared up the mess, Jay had asked her out. There were many memories of the same coffee shop. Laughing over hot drinks, nibbling pastries. And kissing. Lots of kissing and holding hands and declarations of love.

Harry left Jay’s mind and shook his head, as if trying to erase what he had just seen. He flicked his eyes between Jay and the woman, registering the fear that was rolling off them both in waves so thick Harry could taste it. He took a step back and removed his hand from the woman’s hair, watching detachedly as she slid to her knees and sobbed relieved tears at being let go.

He turned to look at Jay, who looked torn between talking to Harry and comforting the woman on the floor.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Who is she and how long has this been going on?”

The cold anger in Harry’s voice seemed to register with Jay, as he sagged his shoulders in defeat and replied, “A-Amy. T-This is Amy. I’ve been s-seeing her for a few m-months.” He looked Harry in the eye and continued, “Please Harry, w-we can g-get rid of her and t-talk. We c-can s-sort this o-out.”

Harry looked at the woman cowering on the floor and wandlessly summoned her clothes, throwing them onto the floor next to her. “Get dressed and get out.” The woman scooped her clothes into her arms and rose shakily to her feet, as if waiting for Harry to change his mind. When neither man moved, she began to hurry into her dress and shoes, clutching her bag and underwear to her chest before making a dash for the door, her heels clunking rapidly as she flew down the stairs and out of the flat.

* * *

Several minutes had passed and, still, Harry was standing silent and statuesque in front of Jay, pinning him to the spot with a look on his face promising pure, unadulterated, cold fury in every contour. It was obvious Jay was utterly terrified of what might happen — it was in how he trembled on the spot, and in the pallid, wide-eyed stare he was sporting. The longer the silence stretched, the more pale and frightened Jay became. Harry fancied he could almost see the usually confident man regress back in years, giving him the look of a lost, scared child. The sight almost sparked a speck of…something of what he used to feel inside him. Almost, but not quite.

“I want you to get dressed and meet me downstairs in two minutes. You are going to sit and explain this entire thing to me, because, honestly, I’m struggling to understand it. If I think for a second that you’re lying to me, I’ll use Legilimency to get the truth. Do you understand?”

Harry’s voice was cold and flat and sounded entirely alien. The effect seemed to frighten Jay all the more, causing him to gasp and recoil, as if leaning back would save him.

“H-Harry…w-we should t-take some t-t-time to calm d-down—”

“If you try and leave, Jay, I will find you and drag you back. You _are_ going to tell me _everything_. It’s the least you owe me. Two minutes, Jay.”

Jay nodded frantically, as if trying to assure Harry he would, indeed, be downstairs as asked. Harry had no doubt he would do as he was told. He was an arsehole, but he wasn’t stupid. With one last withering stare aimed at his ‘boyfriend’, Harry spun on his heel and stalked out of the room and down the stairs, glancing at his watch as he headed into the kitchen. One minute, forty seconds. Tick tock.

Harry was facing the door with his back against the black marble island when Jay finally appeared, dressed, and looking positively sick with nerves. The fact that Harry seemed to be more in control of himself seemed to make Jay more, not less, scared. Interesting.

“Sit,” commanded Harry, vaguely waving a hand in the direction of the stools at the breakfast bar.

“Harry, look—”

“I said _sit_! Now!” Harry snapped. “I’m sure you don’t want me to repeat myself again, given the circumstances.”

The words seemed to cause Jay to shrink into himself a little more, before he walked to the nearest stool and perched nervously on the edge, resting his hands on top of the counter, as if the cold marble would lend him some courage.

“Would you like some tea?” asked Harry, leaning over to flick the kettle on.

“Tea?” enquired a very surprised and wrong-footed Jay, “I’m not sure if tea is what—”

“This is _my_ kitchen and _my_ home where I have just come home to find _my boyfriend_ shagging some fucking woman in _my fucking bed_. So if I decided to make some fucking tea before having to listen to him spout his shite, then that’s what I’m fucking going to do!”

By the time Harry reached the end of his speech, he was yelling, some colour finally returning to his cheeks, his chest heaving with the force of his outburst. The cupboard doors were vibrating on their hinges and the cups on the rack were clattering against each other. The overhead light was dimming and brightening dangerously, as if in warning. He closed his eyes for a second before taking a steadying breath and continued.

“So, I will ask you again. Would. You. Like. Some. Tea?”

Jay simply nodded mutely in response. Fingers sparking with errant power, Harry busied himself with the tea, finally slamming a mugfull in front of Jay several minutes later.

“Now, tell me everything,” demanded Harry, and Jay, sensing he had no choice in the matter, took a deep breath and began to speak.


	2. It Is What It Is

Harry looked up as Ron plopped down into the chair opposite him, holding a bottle of beer loosely in one hand.

“Alright, mate?” his best friend enquired casually, although the frown wrinkling his forehead and cautious look in his eyes gave him away. He knew, which could only mean one thing — Jay had told him…what exactly? _Fucking Jay._ Harry felt a bubble of heat rise in his chest and he quickly tried to quench it with a messy slurp from his pint.

“You’ve seen Jay.” It wasn’t a question, and Ron knew as much, shrugging his gangly shoulders before responding carefully.

“Not really, mate. Me and ‘Mione bumped into him in Diagon earlier on. He wasn’t too happy to see us, which was weird since he’s usually so Hufflepuff with everyone he meets. We asked him what was up and he just said we should ask you about it and ran off before we could even get another word in. Obviously, that couldn’t mean anything good and, when you weren’t at your flat or Grimmauld, I figured the pub was my best bet.”

Harry grunted in response and turned a page in the rather sizable file in front of him, hoping against hope Ron would take the hint and let it go. No such luck.

“Well, what happened? I’m going nowhere, so you’re as well to get it over with and tell me.”

 _Wasn’t that the truth_ , thought Harry. Everyone tended to think he was the more mulish of the two, but Ron had him beat by miles. If Harry was stubborn, Ron was impossible. Harry took another sip of his pint and looked Ron in the eye for the first time since he sat down.

“He’s been shagging some woman since before we got together. I found out the rather wonderful news when I walked in on them fucking like rabbits on _my_ bed. Thanks for asking.”

“That’s — shite, I don’t know what to say. No wonder he looked shifty earlier, the arsehole.” Ron looked equal parts shocked and pissed off on his behalf, which somehow only made Harry feel more angry, not less. Ron was right, it was fucked up, and Jay was a fucking fucked up fuckface of a—

“You want to take a breath, mate?” suggested Ron lightly, lifting Harry’s pint off the now vibrating table with a wince. “Imagine what a shame it would be if your temper spilled your drink? This is good booze. Priorities.”

Harry snorted a quick huff of a laugh at Ron’s blatant attempt to lighten the situation and leaned over to reclaim custody of his pint. He took a deep, calming gulp before setting the glass down on the suddenly still table.

“That’s the ticket. Don’t want to have to arrest yourself for improper use of magic, do you?” Ron laughed at his own joke before taking a greedy slurp of his own beer.

“I don’t get it, though, why bother with you if he was already with whoever she was?” Ron looked genuinely baffled, which, Harry supposed, was perfectly reasonable given the circumstances.

“Yeah, that was a bit of a head-scratcher to me too. The arse wanted to marry her, but she said he wasn’t renowned enough — not enough money in the vault for the likes of her. Apparently, she had some fucking pure-blood elitist idea of what a secure marriage should be.” He took several steadying breaths before continuing, knowing Ron would be relentless until he had the entire story. “So they did the only logical thing they could think of and cooked up a bloody stupid plan to solve their problem — me.”

Ron’s eyebrows drew closer together, clearly not following Harry’s explanation. “Isn’t it bloody obvious, Ron? They decided I would be their meal-ticket. They would get close to me and worm their way into my life. Get me to fucking marry one of them! Then bam, divorce. Half of my vault would be theirs. Everyone would know them as the person who fucking dumped Harry Potter. And they could skip happily into the fucking sunset together, leaving me with my life in bloody ruins—”

Harry broke off his rant as his pint glass shattered in his hand, causing lager and blood to run down his palm and wrist. Ron quickly pulled his wand from his sleeve and healed the cut, vanishing the spilt lager, blood, and broken glass.

“Take it you want another one, mate? Or something stronger?” Harry nodded his agreement and Ron went to the bar, returning to the table a few minutes later with a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses.

“Figured the situation was fucked up enough to warrant the whole bottle, mate,” explained Ron when Harry raised his eyebrow.

“Damn fucking right it is,” agreed Harry, snatching the bottle and pouring them both healthy measures. “Here’s to fucking cheating bastards giving us a fucking reason to get rat-arsed on a work night.” They toasted and chugged their drinks, wincing at the burning, before Ron refilled their glasses.

“And they both just told you all this? And you just stood and happily listened before patting them on the back and sending them on their merry way?” The look on Ron’s face was pure scepticism.

“Not exactly; I sort of flipped out, blew in some windows, and threw her out. Then I made Jay sit and tell me what the fuck he was playing at. In all honesty, he didn’t tell me all of it, but I sort of forced it out of him.”

“Sort of flipped out? Sort of forced him to tell you? You went ape, didn’t you, and then used Legilimency for the bits he left out?” Harry’s silence was all the answer Ron needed. “Fuck, Harry, you can’t just go around attacking people with angry magic bursts and mind shite. The last thing you need is for the Prophet to get wind of your _outbursts_.”

“To be fair, I did warn him I would look for myself if he didn’t tell me everything.”

Harry had the grace to look slightly sheepish at his friend, who luckily opted to shrug it off and move on. Good old Ron.

“Why did you bring that thing with you?” Ron asked, nodding to the folder still in front of Harry in a bid to get on safer ground.

“It’s my _Malfoy_ _File_ ,” replied Harry, not meeting Ron’s eyes.

“And that is…?” enquired Ron with the air of someone who was worried he wouldn’t like the forthcoming answer.

“I — well you guys don’t like me mentioning Malfoy, so I stopped.But then it was all just bouncing around in my head.” Harry shrugged. “So instead, I just wrote it all down in the file. That way, I’ll have all the proof I need when the time comes.”

“When the time comes for what, you mental-case?” exclaimed Ron in pure exasperation. “The guy is a moron but that’s it. You’re bloody obsessed, mate. You should go to some kind of support group for stalkers.”

Harry looked indignant at that. “I'm not stalking him! I’m investigating. It’s called building a case!”

“It’s called being out of your bloody tree, more like,” mumbled Ron mutinously, before reaching over and snatching the file for a look. “What’s in here anyway? _June 4th_ — _Malfoy 20 mins late for meeting_ — _why?_ Oh, Merlin, it gets worse! _June 6th_ — _Malfoy puts 2 sugars in his coffee_ — _extra energy?_ — _suspicious, keep note of future coffee intake._ What the fuck, Harry? You, mate, are bloody mental.”

Ron shook his head in a pitying manner as he slid the folder back over to Harry, who had the grace to look sheepish in the face of his friend’s judgement.

“You’ll be sorry when it comes out he’s done something terrible and I have all the proof in here. Then who’ll look like a chump?” stated Harry defiantly, sending Ron into an infectious, full belly laugh, causing a smile to tweak the corners of Harry’s mouth.

“So why do you have this amazing _Malfoy File_ with you then? Trying to take your mind off of fuckface numero uno?”

Harry shifted awkwardly in his seat, knowing the next thing he was going to say would be taken to be confirmation of Ron’s stalker theory. “I was trying to find a link between Jay and Malfoy, see if maybe this was his fault.”

At this, Ron lost it completely, nearly toppling back in his chair as Harry harrumphed grumpily at his friend’s refusal to take the situation seriously. He picked up his glass and downed the contents, relishing the stinging in his throat. _Fuck Ron. And fuck Jay. And Malfoy, too. Fuck them all._

* * *

It was well after midnight when Harry stumbled out of the Floo into his flat, almost dropping the _Malfoy_ _File_ all over the place. Godric, he hated Floo travel at the best of times, but being drunk just made it nauseating. As he struggled to hold onto the contents of his file and his stomach, Ron’s head popped into the Floo behind him.

“You ok, mate? Grab some water and head to bed and I’ll see you at work tomorrow. I’ll bring the coffee, right? And get rid of that ridiculous stalker file!” With a final nod of farewell, Ron’s head vanished from the fireplace, leaving Harry entirely alone. Well, not entirely alone, thought Harry, as Aurelia hooted from her perch near the living room window.


	3. A Note, A Potion, And Some Debris

An annoyingly persistent tapping at the window forced its way into Harry’s hazy dreams, wrenching him into painful consciousness. He tried to open his eyes, only to scrunch them closed in disgust at the light filling the room. _Who the hell made sunlight so bloody fucking bright?_ The tapping was growing ever louder, with Aurelia’s annoyed hooting adding itself to the mix, causing the thumping in Harry’s head to double — no, triple — in intensity.

He took a fortifying breath and valiantly opened his eyes again, using his hands to slowly lever himself into a sitting position. His neck creaked dangerously as he looked around at the tapping sound. It was a Ministry owl. Strange. Work stuff was usually delivered, well, to his work. Realising the owl was still tapping away on the glass, Harry flicked his wrist to open the window and admit the persistent messenger, who immediately swooped onto the arm of the sofa Harry was sitting upon, holding out his leg impatiently to Harry, as if anxious to be on his way. He untied the small package and letter from the owl as quickly as his fingers could fumble. Once free, the owl swooped onto Aurelia’s perch for a quick drink of water before gliding through the window once more.

_Mate,_

_I take it you kept going once you got home? Take the potion and get your arse in here before you’re missed. I already told Robards you were down in Archives to buy you some time. Oh, and bring an umbrella_ — _trust me._

_Ron_

An umbrella? What the hell did he need an umbrella for? Harry put the parchment on the table and picked up the small parcel, opening it to reveal a small bottle of hangover potion. _God bless you, Ron,_ thought Harry, as he downed the lot, and headed off upstairs to sort himself out.

Harry leaned against the door frame of his bedroom and looked detachedly around the room. The windows were in ruins. The patio doors were hanging open awkwardly on their hinges. Several of the drawers in the dresser were sitting partially open from when Jay had made a scramble to get his things to leave. _He missed some stuff_ , thought Harry, as he spied the novel Jay had been reading sitting on the bedside table.

Finally, he allowed himself to look at the bed. Just the sight of it conjured up the memory of Jay and that woman writhing around on it. On HIS bed. Slowly, Harry raised his right hand and cast an Incendio. The erupting flames matched his heart, and he watched it burn and turn to ash. Turning slowly, he made his way out of the bedroom and closed the door carefully behind him. _That’s right, Harry_ , he thought to himself, _closing the door will totally magically erase the last 24 hours._

* * *

Harry descended the stairs a short while later, feeling much more himself. _Thank Gordic for the healing properties of a hot shower._ At the bottom of the stairs, Harry took in the results of his late-night pity session — an empty bottle of vodka lay on the floor next to the couch Harry had slept on, the glass still perched on the edge of the coffee table. There were several patches of debris and glass on the floor where he had smashed any picture frames that had anything remotely to do with Jay. Fucking fuckface Jay and his stupid whore of a girlfriend or whatever she was meant to be. _There isn’t much I can do about any of it_ , he thought, _so, fuck it._ A quick glance at his watch told him he was now almost two hours late for work. Indulging in one last sad look at the room, he shrugged at the mess, grabbed the _Malfoy_ _File_ off the table, and walked to the front door. Once he’d pulled on his boots and cloak and disregarded the advice on the umbrella, he muttered darkly to himself and Disapparated to the Ministry.


	4. Why Does It Always Rain On Me?

Harry had many expectations of what his working day would be like, all of them set pretty low. The potion had taken away the majority of his headache, but he still felt like shit. He expected he would have plenty of paperwork to get through, as was par for the course. He also expected that anything involving actual movement could be done by Ron. After all, what were partners for? Basically, if he could make it through the day without falling asleep or having to move from his desk, then he would count the day as a win.

What he didn’t expect was to Apparate into the Ministry foyer, only to be met with a horde of very pissed off Ministry workers from all departments sporting a variety of weather clouds directly above their heads. All of the clouds were of varying shades of grey, some with swirls of wind or drizzling showers. There were even one or two which were almost black with random ejaculations of sleet and hail pelting their furious-looking owners. Glee flooded through him at the sight of one very irate, very snow-covered, Malfoy shivering furiously below a rather formidable looking nimbus cloud. _Well, at least something’s going right today,_ thought Harry. Malfoy's suffering always put a smile on his face. Fighting a mad desire to take a picture and laugh like a maniac, Harry looked around at the yelling workers in an attempt to make sense of the mayhem.

However, before he could get far, a dark shadow settled above him. He looked up to find a cloud — a very dark, pendulous cumulonimbus. A cloud which, if you were to pick a cloud to be above your head, would be the last to ever be selected by anyone, ever. It was much larger than the other clouds above anyone else, and much darker too, which, Harry concluded, could not possibly bode well. The hubbub was silenced suddenly by a rather strained voice ringing out over the Magi-tannoy.

_“It may have come to your attention that there is an epidemic of mood clouds following everyone around the Ministry. Unfortunately, I must inform you that the Magical Maintenance staff, while setting the day’s weather on the ministry windows, accidentally cast a mood-reflecting charm on the Ministry building itself. This has had the unfortunate result of a cloud appearing above each person within the Ministry, with the cloud reflecting the mood of that person at that time. We are currently trying to resolve the issue. Please try to ignore your cloud, think happy thoughts, and continue about your business. Thank you. Oh, and impervious and cheering charms appear to have no effect on the situation. Good luck.”_

With those ominous parting words, the voice ceased, followed by a very tense, very silent few minutes where no one knew what to say or do, unable to accept the existence of such a situation. It seemed the silence would stretch out forever; however, it was at that moment that Malfoy found his voice and decided his opinion on the situation was best yelled to the Atrium at large. This sudden injection of vitriol seemed to kickstart everyone else, who burst into a flurry of movement and noise, yelling about their predicament as they hurried off to their relative departments.

Harry had not yet spoken or moved from his spot. He kept his eyes trained on Malfoy, who stomped his foot and gestured to the furious crowd surrounding him about the inconvenience of the situation. He was making too much of a fuss, almost as if he was overcompensating for something. As Harry thought this over, Malfoy turned in his direction, causing their eyes to lock across the Atrium. Suddenly, Malfoy’s cloud, which until this point had been grey with swirls of wind and the odd flurry of snow, lightened in colour, and a few rays of sunshine managed to escape from the edge of the cloud. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, causing Malfoy to startle and practically run in the opposite direction. Just as he disappeared around a corner, Harry saw Malfoy’s cloud regress back to its former grey and windy state. Suspicious. Very suspicious. Harry flicked his eyes to his watch, noted the time, and resolved to make a note in the file he was currently clutching. With his resolve set, Harry strode purposefully towards his office, hangover and Jay-rage for the moment forgotten.


	5. A Storm In A Teacup

By the end of the day, the cloud issue still hadn’t been resolved. The atmosphere within the ministry had been murderous for hours, with any employee of the Magical Maintenance department bearing the brunt of it. At first, it just started off with people sending memos along to MM, asking when they expected the situation to be resolved, but then the Howlers started to arrive, screeching obscenities at the unfortunate Maintenance staff. By lunchtime, the collective rage had reached such heights that people had started to sling jinxes at any Maintenance staff in sight. Finally, the entire Maintenance department had warded themselves inside their offices for their own protection. Harry found it difficult to sympathise with them — while no one deserved to be harassed at work, they were obviously total morons. Maybe someone would manage to jinx some sense into them.

By the time five p.m. rolled around, Harry had had enough. He was sick of shivering away at his desk, trying to work through torrential downpours and gale-force winds. Of course, the more pissed off and miserable he got at the situation, the worse his cloud became. At least Ron had stopped offering him stupid suggestions — when he suggested Harry should try to look on the bright side and cheer up, Harry lost it and sent a Stinging Hex at him.

He shook his sopping fringe out of his eyes and tried to focus through his rain-spattered glasses at the parchment in front of him. Although an Impervious was useless on himself, it still worked on his surroundings. He didn’t want to think how much worse his day would have been if his chair and desk were soaking too. Harry fought a shiver, cast a wandless drying spell on his robes for the hundredth time, and tried once again to focus on his work. However, he was a bit forceful with the spell, and he had to bat the cuffs of his sleeves as they started to smoke. _Merlin this is useless_ , thought Harry, huffing dramatically to himself, which only caused his glasses to steam up.

 _Bugger this, I’m going home_. There was absolutely no bloody point in sitting cooped up in a depressing office under a temperamental cloud like a drowned rat! He cleaned the fog off his glasses and shoved them back onto his face, where drops of sleet immediately began to run down them. He gathered up his _Malfoy File_ and stalked out of the office towards the lift. Why the fuck couldn’t they let Aurors Apparate in and out of the Ministry? It was such a bloody time-waster. He pressed the button to call the lift and hoped against hope it would be empty. If anyone was in it and tried to get off at a stop which wasn’t his, he would bloody hex them.

After what felt like an age, the lift doors pinged open to reveal a rather pissed-off looking Malfoy. _Oh, for fuck’s sake! Of course, Malfoy would be in the bloody lift! Talk about the fucking cherry on top of the perfect fucking day. Fine, whatever_ , thought Harry, as he squared his shoulders and stepped into the lift. He would keep his eyes straight ahead and pretend Malfoy wasn’t there. Resolved to this plan, he reached over and pressed the button for the Atrium.

“I already pressed it, Potter,” came a mocking drawl from his right. “See the way the button has lit up? That’s because someone, more specifically _me_ , has already pressed it.”

Harry winced at the burst of irritation that was suddenly constricting his chest and gave himself a mental pep talk. _Breathe in…one…two…three…and breathe out…one…two…three…keep looking ahead. You’re in the lift by yourself. Malfoy doesn’t exist._

“What’s the matter, Potter? Cat got your tongue? Oh, I know, pressing the already pressed button has used up all your brainpower. Don’t worry, even an idiot can communicate; just grunt once for yes and twice for—”

“Fuck’s sake, Malfoy, just fucking shut up!” Harry’s screech reverberated around the lift, his cloud rumbling ominously above him.

“Temper, temper, Potter. Such behaviour, and in the workplace, too.”

Harry forced himself to keep his eyes trained straight ahead as he breathed steadily through the desire to smash Malfoy’s pointy, smug face into the mirrored walls. As Harry opened his mouth to respond, the lift lurched and juddered to an abrupt stop. Then, before either Harry or Malfoy had time to register what had happened, the lights flicked weakly and died, plunging the lift into darkness.

“What the fuck did you do, Malfoy?” demanded Harry, eyes darting around in the gloom as if the answer would suddenly pop up.

“Me? You’re the one screeching like a banshee!” Malfoy retorted.

“Just fix whatever you bloody did!” insisted Harry, trying to keep control of his rapidly escalating panic.

“Pray tell, why are we arguing in the dark?” With that, Malfoy was suddenly holding a ball of blue flames, the flickering light allowing the two men to finally make eye contact.

“Fix what you fucking did, Malfoy, or I swear I’ll—”

“You’ll what? You think I’m scared of the Chosen One?”

“Eat shit, Malfoy—”

At that moment, they were interrupted by a disembodied nasal voice over the Magi-tannoy.

_“Attention all Ministry employees, we regret to inform you that, while sorting out the previous magical mishap, the Magical Maintenance staff have unfortunately miscast a possible Counter-curse for the mood clouds. Instead of deactivating them, they have, regrettably, deactivated all lifts within the ministry building. Therefore, we urge all employees to use stairwells to reach Apparition points and Floo Networks. For those employees already within the deactivated lifts, we can only apologise. We have the Maintenance staff working overtime to resolve, first the lift mishap, and then the mood cloud debacle. We have absolutely no idea how long this may take, but we are sure it will be no more than a couple of hours. Please remain as calm as possible. It’s important not to panic in this situation. Thank you.”_

Flabbergasted silence reigned within the lift for at least a minute, before Harry broke it with a mumbled drying charm for his robes and sat crossed-legged on the floor near the doors. After an awkward moment where Harry stared straight ahead, Malfoy sank down to the floor opposite him. _He looks really cold_ , Harry thought, as he flicked his gaze over and took in the blue tint to Malfoy’s lips and the way he wrapped his arms around himself. The cloud above his head was light grey and sending down mini flurries of snow, coating his hair and shoulders in a layer of white. _Why is he just sitting there freezing to death? Idiot_.

“For fuck’s sake, Malfoy, just cast a warming charm already. Your shivering is driving me mad.”

“Arsehole,” replied Malfoy, as he slid his wand from up his sleeve. Harry carefully kept his eyes on Malfoy’s wand, prepared to cast a shield at whatever Malfoy might throw at him; however, Malfoy simply pointed the wand at himself and cast the warming charm, sending a flush of red over his cheeks.

“What, Potter? Not every thought I have involves hexing you. Paranoid much?” Draco taunted, amusement dripping from his every syllable.

Harry rolled his eyes and forced himself to ignore him. The one small bluebell flame didn’t provide much help, casting as much shadow as it did light. Harry mumbled a wandless Lumos, filling the entire lift with a bright light. Ignoring Malfoy’s disgruntled glare, Harry waved his hand and vanished the bluebell flames, not taking care to hide his smirk of victory. He settled in for the long haul and hunched his shoulders against the hail and rain sporadically dripped down on him.

Harry had managed to keep out of Malfoy’s way for years now, pretty much since the Death Eater trials four years before. He had done the _decent_ thing and testified on behalf of the Malfoys — well, except Lucius. The second it was over, he had tried to extend an olive branch, and Malfoy had essentially told him that he wasn’t asked to help and not to expect grovelling — the Malfoys would never owe him anything. Harry had taken it on the chin and accepted it. To be honest, he should have expected Malfoy to react as such, and simply shook his head at his own naivety and went home. It was awkward as arse when they both showed up for training at the ministry — Harry for the Aurors and Malfoy for the Unspeakables. Thankfully, throughout the years, they had managed to maintain a cold civility within the workplace on the rare occasions they ever had to interact. Therefore, it was easy to see why being trapped in a lift with him was driving Harry absolutely mental.

“Merlin, it’s like being trapped in here with a bunged-up Dementor,” Malfoy grumbled an hour later as he shot a glare over to Harry.

“What’s your problem now, Malfoy?” Harry looked up from where he had been studying his lap in great detail. Malfoy sat reclining against the glass, one leg stretched out in front of him and the other bent at the knee with his elbow casually draped over it. He looked so at ease. _Bastard_.

“Must you breathe so bloody loudly? You’re driving me crazy. You’re not running a fucking marathon, you know.”

Malfoy had been complaining about little things Harry was doing to ‘offend’ him for the last hour, and at this rate, Harry wasn’t so sure they would both make it out of the lift alive. He had resolved to do his best to ignore him, if for no other reason than to try and control his cloud, but Merlin, it was hard. Harry reached down beside him for the _Malfoy_ _File_ , cast a quick Impervious on it, and began to flick through it. If he could focus on looking for patterns and links, then he was confident that he could survive this hell without blood on his hands.

* * *

_Tap…tap…tap tap, tappity tap, tap…_ Harry gave up trying to ignore the incessant noise coming from the opposite side of the lift.

“I swear to Godric, if you don’t stop bloody tapping, I’m going to break your fucking neck.” Harry could feel his blood pressure climb with every tap Malfoy made. There’s no way Malfoy was a natural tapper, he would have noticed. It would be in the File. He was obviously trying his best to wind Harry up and, dear Merlin, was it working!

“Oh, I _am_ sorry, Chosen One, am I bothering you? Merlin forbid,” mocked Malfoy in that entitled sneer he always used. Harry tried to do his breathing exercises and return his full focus to the file. He needed to keep control, if for no other reason than to not let Malfoy win. He just needed to hold on, that was all. He flicked his eyes to his watch and noticed yet another hour had passed. _It’s amazing_ , thought Harry, _how two hours in a lift with Malfoy can make a weekend stuck in a Turkish prison seem like a dream holiday_. Hoping against hope they would be freed any time, Harry cast another drying charm on his robes and turned the page in his file. Above his head, the two clouds grumbled and darkened warningly.

* * *

It had now been over three hours since the lift had shuddered to a halt; there was still no sign of freedom and no new announcements or information had come their way. _Sure, it will be resolved in a couple of hours_ , thought Harry despairingly. When he finally got out of here, he was going to personally hex every single member of the MM.

Harry was so engrossed in mumbling darkly about the evils of the MM team, that he didn’t notice Malfoy had moved until his shadow fell over him. _Crap_ , thought Harry, as he quickly shut the file. The last thing he needed was to try and explain the _Malfoy_ _File_ to, well, Malfoy!

“What’re you doing?” Malfoy enquired.

“Playing Quidditch,” snapped Harry waspishly. “What does it look like?” He eyed Malfoy carefully as he scooted progressively closer and closer to Harry.

“Funny, Potter.”

“Fucking hysterical. Now piss off back to your side.” The lift was starting to feel much smaller with Malfoy inching closer as he was. He cast another drying charm on his robes and shook the water off his forehead irritably.

“What were you reading? Come on, let me see. I’m about to die of boredom.”

“Must you bloody whinge in my ear like that? It’s work-related and classified. Go occupy yourself! Over there, away from me!”

“Fine, I’ll just read, shall I…” Harry realised a split second too late just what Malfoy was up to, and before he could process the situation, Malfoy was scrambling to his feet and skidding through his flurry of snow back over to his side of the lift, slipping, clutching the _Malfoy_ _File_.

“Are you taking the fucking piss, Malfoy?” Harry yelled, getting up and lunging after the file, managing to fasten his grip over the edge of the cardboard before Malfoy could move out of range. Harry gave the folder a sharp tug in an attempt to dislodge Malfoy’s grip.

“Get your ferret fingers off my fucking folder!”

Malfoy yanked the file back and thrust his face into Harry’s, “Let me guess, you’re going to make me?”

That was it, the last straw. Harry pushed Malfoy back against the mirror and yanked the folder back towards his own chest, simultaneously slamming his forehead directly onto Malfoy’s face. The resulting crunch of Malfoy’s nose breaking echoed within the lift, followed by a scream of pain-filled rage.

“You absolute fucker!” roared Malfoy, tightening his grip on the file as he brought his knee up to make contact with Harry’s groin.

Above their heads, the clouds were crackling dangerously as they billowed out against each other, as if each were trying to devour the other. With every blow that passed between the two men, the thundering storm above them whipped closer to a fevered pitch, until the clouds merged into a formidable mass of electricity and doom.


	6. A Fight and Then Some

The fight quickly gained momentum, causing them both to lose balance and fall to the lift floor. Amidst the rolling and scuffling, Harry managed to get on top of Malfoy, straddling his chest and trying to twist Malfoy’s wrist and wrench the file out of his grip. Malfoy’s painful grunts reached a crescendo with Harry’s new line of attack. In an attempt to keep hold of the file, Malfoy frantically started to bite at Harry’s fingers and hands. During the confused pretzel their bodies now formed, Malfoy managed to employ an amazing feat of agility, somehow bending one of his legs up and smacking Harry off of him and to the side. The force of Harry’s tumble dragged Malfoy with him, resulting in Malfoy pinning Harry to the floor. Seizing this fortuitous change, Malfoy raised himself onto his knees in an attempt to escape the fight, only to realise Harry still had a fierce grasp of the file.

Time almost seemed to slow dramatically as Malfoy gave one last almighty yank, causing the file folder to tear with a resounding RASP. Harry fell back prone to the floor with a winded gasp, barely registering the grunt of pain and thump from Malfoy hitting the opposing wall. Parchment slowly floated to the sodden floor, ink starting to smear in sporadic spots. Harry quickly regained his footing, skidding slightly on the sleet-covered floor, and rushed to gather up as much of the file as possible. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ , he thought, as he fumbled with damp parchment with almost hysterical panic.

“What the fuck is my fucking name doing on those pages, Potter?” Malfoy’s harsh rasp seemed to echo throughout the lift as though it was yelled, causing Harry to pause momentarily in his task to see Malfoy holding several slightly damp leaves of parchment.

“Put them down, Malfoy. No, confidential, stop, no. Stop!”

The lift suddenly seemed too small and the air too thin as Harry tried to gulp lungfuls of air into his body. The pages littering the floor began to swirl around the lift as Harry’s cloud ceased raining and instead began to form a mini, but effective, tornado. Harry’s still damp hair and robes slashed and swirled around him as he frantically tried to calm his panic and think his way out of the situation.

There was no way he could allow Malfoy to read the File, all his hard work! Months — no years — of sleuthing and sneaking and noticing! The thought of what Malfoy would say if he knew what was on the pages was enough to make Harry want to Avada himself on the spot. The sheer embarrassment would be enough to last him until his deathbed. In utter desperation, Harry dashed forward and ripped the pages Malfoy was holding out of his grasp and threw them to the floor behind him, as if he could create a physical barrier between Malfoy and the incriminating pages.

“Let me see the fucking pages, shithead,” growled Malfoy.

“Look—”

“Accio parchment!” Malfoy had pulled his wand and was holding his freehand out for the weather-beaten parchment now flying towards him. Harry felt as though he were drowning, or dreaming, or both. The sheer hopelessness of the situation filled him to the brim. His limbs positively shook with the need to do something, _anything_ , to stop Malfoy.

Harry surged forward and wound his fists into Malfoy’s frozen robes, using them to pin him against the mirrored wall. Malfoy’s head thunked off the glass as the two men glared into each other’s faces, the wind whipping their hair into their eyes. Harry’s teeth were clenched in utter fury. His glasses were fogging up from the harsh hot breaths Malfoy was puffing out into the cold air. Above their heads, their clouds were once again merging together, forming one large black mass, the tornado fusing with Malfoy’s mini blizzard, shooting lightning, downdrafts, and microbursts throughout and around the lift. Harry needed to do something, needed something to happen to take his mind from all the pain and confusion and anger inside of him. He wanted to stop hurting, stop hurting others, to just _stop_ —. Harry scrunched his eyes and closed the distance between them, crashing their lips together harshly. Malfoy opened his mouth in a gasp at the unexpected contact, only momentarily surprised, before responding with lust-fuelled aggression.

It was a torrent of sexual chaos where each man shared the goal of getting as much friction as quickly as possible. Their tongues lashed, teeth sunk into lips, drawing blood, hands roughly yanking hair. Neither man seemed inclined to return to their senses as they pulled and ripped at their robes — anything to get at each other. In a sudden violent tug, Harry dragged Malfoy’s trousers and boxers down in one motion, causing Malfoy to release an almost feral growl and nip hard on Harry’s jawline. Abruptly, Harry stepped back and spun Malfoy to face the wall. He pressed his chest into Malfoy’s back, laving his tongue around Malfoy’s earlobe and nipping the back of his neck as he pulled his own trousers and boxers down to mid-thigh, releasing his straining cock to bat against Malfoy’s now bare arse and settle between his cheeks. Lube. How did you make lube again? Harry struggled to dredge the spell from his lust-filled brain, especially with the way Malfoy was grinding his arse up and down against his cock.

“For fuck’s sake, Potter, get on with it,” he ground out, shamelessly pushing back onto Harry and driving him wild beyond belief.

“Lube,” gasped Harry, “how—”

“Ducatus,” rasped Malfoy, “Fucking Ducatus.”

Harry wasted no time lubing up his fingers and rubbed the oily substance around Malfoy’s hungry pucker before plunging two fingers directly inside Malfoy’s arsehole. Harry groaned wantonly at the sinful combination of Malfoy’s moans of pleasure and the heat contracting around him, as he pumped and scissored his fingers frantically in a bid to open Malfoy up as quickly as possible.

“Fuck, just — do it,” commanded Malfoy, as his fingernails uselessly scrambled for purchase over the glass he was pinned against. Harry slid his fingers out immediately and, after casting a quick preparation charm, lined up his cock, took one shuddering breath, and pushed entirely inside Malfoy in one swift thrust, Malfoy’s yelp of painful pleasure echoing around the lift.

“Fuck, Malfoy,” growled Harry through clenched teeth, “so fucking tight.”

Harry braced his hands on Malfoy’s hips and withdrew to the tip before plunging back in, over and over again, picking up speed with every thrust. Malfoy reached his left arm back around Harry’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss that was almost painful in its intensity. Harry lost himself in the tight arsehole that was clenching and sucking him in hungrily each time he pressed in. The echoing thunder from the merged clouds above their heads punctuated with the sound of Harry’s balls smacking off the back of Malfoy’s thighs, both men grunting and crying out obscenities of utter ecstasy.

The pressure in Harry’s balls was reaching its crescendo, and he knew he didn’t have long. He reached a hand between Malfoy and the mirror and began to frantically stroke Malfoy’s cock in time with the pistoning of his hips.

“C-close, s-so close,” breathed Malfoy against Harry’s mouth, pushing back on to Harry’s cock and forward into his fist repeatedly.

“M-Me too,” agreed Harry, before fastening his lips over Malfoy’s bottom lip and sucking hard. Malfoy gasped and groaned as he arched back into Harry, eyes scrunched tight as he came in white spurts thick and fast against the glass. The sound of Malfoy coming and the clenching in his arsehole tipped Harry over the edge, and he buried his face into Malfoy’s neck, muffling the sounds of his release as he filled the tight canal with his come.

Aftershocks of his release shuddered through his body, causing his knees to shake. The reality of the situation settled heavily over Harry — that he had fucked Malfoy, that his softening cock was still snug within Malfoy’s body. He tilted his pelvis back and allowed his cock to slide out of Malfoy and hang limp between his legs.

He still had a bruising grip on Malfoy, and at that realisation, he raised his head up to make eye contact with him in the mirror. Neither man seemed able to look away from the other, baffled and shell shocked and battered. Harry forced his eyes away from Malfoy’s swollen features and looked at himself, his bruised face covered in sweat and blood. Of all the things he thought would have happened between them, this would have been the furthest from his mind. The magnitude of the situation seemed to have them both frozen in place. Harry still had his left hand clenched tightly around Malfoy’s hip, the other sitting just above Malfoy’s groin, still sticky with come. Malfoy was still half leaning against Harry, one arm around his neck, baring a faded and sweaty dark mark, and the other braced against the mirror. He dropped his arms from around Malfoy and stumbled backwards, tugging his boxers and trousers back into place as he went. His back hit the opposite mirror, impeding his attempt at fleeing. “What the fuck have I fucking done?” he mumbled, as he slid despairingly into a heap on the carpeted floor.


	7. Not Ruined, Just Cracked

The cloudy mass floating at the top of the lift was still, dark, and pendulous. A momentary reprieve had been granted, it seemed, from the constant rain and snow, reflecting the shocked state of the two men sprawled in opposite corners of the small space. The lack of weather made the ragged breathing and groans of pain both men uttered seem all the louder. Harry screwed his eyes tight against reality, as if not seeing it would somehow make it all not true. His eyes and lungs burned with the effort of holding back tears. It was bad enough he had fucked Malfoy, but hell would freeze over before he cried in front of him. Dimly, he thought he should try his breathing exercises, but fuck if he could remember how to count to three.

After a few minutes of battling with his slippery emotional control and barely managing to win, Harry opened his eyes tentatively and took in the scene around him. Slightly soggy parchment was strewn around the floor, ink slightly smudged in some places. Here and there, small spots of puddle remained from the now absent rain and snow. He registered that the two mood clouds were now one large, low rumbling mass. The mere sight of them made Harry nervous — it was as if they were waiting for some kind of cue before restarting their apocalyptic weather. Finally, no longer able to put off looking in that direction, Harry allowed his eyes to settle on Malfoy’s hunched figure, his eyes squeezed shut, dried blood covering his nose and chin. _I did that_ , he thought. _I did all of it._

He looked away from Malfoy to the mirrored wall behind him and was startled to see the state of his reflection staring back at him. He could see his father’s hair, only it was flecked with dried blood and lank from the rain and snow. He could see his mother’s eyes, only they were wider, more feral. Panicked. There was a purpling bruise forming around one eyelid, making it close slightly on the bright green irises peering back at him. _Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh’ve got yer mum’s eyes_. Harry could hear Hagrid’s voice echo throughout his mind as if he was in the lift with him. What would Hagrid think if he could see him now? What would his parents think? They wouldn’t have wanted him to turn out like this. Constantly furious, randomly exploding magic everywhere, putting work before everything else in his life, the constant paranoia. It was exhausting. He _was_ exhausted, and he only had himself to blame.

He groaned in pain, not at his injuries, but at the physical ache this sudden introspection caused him. Fistfighting and random sex in a lift with Malfoy with a crazy weather system above his head? Talk about being brought low. Back at school, this would have been a million miles away from where he thought his life would be. He always imagined being married, having a family, being happy. How could he be anything else when Voldemort wasn’t constantly hanging some bat-shit crazy murderous plot over his head? Where did it go so wrong? Silent tears of confusion, anger, and shame burned searing tracks down his cheeks. He flicked his watery eyes over to Malfoy again, noting he looked as bad as Harry felt. How in the name of Merlin’s saggy arse did they both get here?

Harry lifted his right hand and cast a wandless, silent cleaning charm on both him and Malfoy, managing to remove a decent amount of the blood and most of the stickiness from their spendings.

“Why did you do that, Potter?” mumbled Malfoy, suspicion lacing his tired voice.

“If we’re going to be trapped in hell, we might as well be vaguely comfortable,” shrugged Harry, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I — Thanks.”

Harry opened his eyes sharply and looked at Malfoy, not daring to believe what he just heard.

“Did you just—”

“I’m not repeating myself, Potter. It is what it is.”

 _Mood clouds? Malfoy being grateful?_ thought Harry. _If I see three horsemen, I’m taking an early holiday._

A few minutes passed in somewhat strained silence until Harry could bear it no longer. Their situation — for want of a better word — wasn’t going to vanish, short of an Obliviation, that is. The longer it was left, he reasoned, the worse it would be to talk about. Seizing the proverbial Erumpent by the horns, Harry launched himself into what he was sure would be the most cringe-worthy conversation of his life.

“S-so, we should probably talk about—”

“Not a chance, Potter.”

“There’s no point in pretending tha—”

“There’s every bloody point, Potter! It didn’t happen. I don't want to talk about it, ok? Get it through that thick scarhead of yours!”

Harry watched carefully as Malfoy hiss-breathed through his clenched teeth. His common sense was telling him to ignore his gut feeling and leave Malfoy alone for a bit. The problem was, Harry was never very good at common sense, or ignoring his gut.

“What’s the issue? Ok, it was hardly the most productive thing, or the smartest thing, but it happened, and I would like to get it sorted so that it doesn’t bite me on the arse when you decide however far down the line to get your knickers in a twist and sell me out to the Prophet.”

Draco’s face seemed to drain of what little colour it had left and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Fury radiated from his every limb as he slowly, and painfully, pulled himself to his feet. _Well done_ , Harry thought, _pissing Dra-Malfoy off in a small space was definitely ignoring common sense._ The cloud mass above their heads began to rumble ominously, although thankfully, no adverse weather had reappeared yet.

“Are you really this bloody stupid?” hissed Malfoy. “Why the fuck would I go to the bloody Prophet about this? Why the hell would I want anyone to ever find out? It’s not bad enough that people will be out for my blood when they realise we’ve been fighting in here. Salazar forbid anyone, especially a lowly Malfoy, ever lay a finger on the Great Prat Who Lived! What do you think people will do if they find out an ex-bloody-Death Eater shagged their beloved hero?!”

Harry’s mouth had fallen open amidst Malfoy’s tirade. He never thought for a second that Malfoy led anything other than a charmed life. He was a bloody Unspeakable, for Merlin’s sake! He looked Malfoy over carefully, noticing that he seemed to physically vibrate with the force of his words, the pent up resentment pouring out of him like poison being leached from an old sore. Harry reached a placating hand between them both and tried to diffuse the situation before they were once again drenched from the very unhappy looking mood cloud above them.

“Look, I didn’t know things have been…like that…for you since…you know. I’m sorry, okay? Just sit back down, and erm…breathe, and if you really don’t want to…you know…talk about it, then we won’t. Okay?”

Malfoy scrutinised Harry for a few seconds before he roughly exhaled and plopped himself back down onto the floor. His fury seemed to drain out of him, making him look smaller than Harry had ever seen him.

* * *

“So how come my name’s on those pages?” asked Malfoy, hesitantly breaking the pregnant silence between them.

Harry opened his eyes in surprise and looked cautiously at Malfoy. It had been a very awkward ten minutes, but it looked like Malfoy had finally got a bit of a grip on himself. Harry quickly thought through his options — lie about the file and hope it sticks, or tell the truth and prepare for Armageddon.

“Look for yourself,” instructed Harry with a shrug. _Ah well_ , he thought, _in for a Knut, in for a Galleon._

After a couple of minutes of parchment shuffling, Malfoy finally managed to process some of what he’d read and find his voice.

“Okay, either you’re conducting official Auror-related surveillance on me and yielding very poor, very odd, results, or you’re weirdly obsessed with my every move. Which is it, Potter?” Malfoy’s clipped tone, each word carefully annunciated, made it painfully obvious he was struggling to remain calm and approach the baffling parchment logically.

“Are those my only two options?” asked Harry with an ironic smile, trying to put a light spin on the situation. Malfoy, however, remained unmoved.

Harry let out a lingering sigh of resignation before deciding to just have at it and tell Malfoy the whole thing. There truly was nothing like bumping ugly with your enemy to clear the communication channels.

“Fine. If I had to pick — I guess I’m weirdly obsessed with your every move…or at least that’s what Ron always tells me. Look, it’s not that big a deal, I just…it’s just that…” _Get a grip_ , thought Harry, as he took a deep breath and tried again. _Okay_. “I’ve always sort of kept tabs on you. Since school. As early as second year when I thought you might have been the Heir of Slytherin, although that was only a little bit…”

Ignoring Malfoy’s stunned look, Harry ploughed on.

“I really grew more aware of you in sixth year, you know, what with everything…I knew you were marked and had a task but no one would listen to me. Not even Ron and ‘Mione. Especially Ron and ‘Mione, actually. Ever since, it’s sort of become a weird habit. If I notice you doing something I make a note of it. That way I don’t drive my nearest and dearest nuts rambling on about you and I can keep my head sane. And no, I have no idea why. It’s just how it is, okay?” Harry took a steadying breath and prepared himself for the shitstorm that was sure to be Malfoy’s reaction.

Rumbling laughter permeated the taught silence and filled the small space, effectively managing to startle Harry. He made tentative eye contact with Malfoy, but that only seemed to spur him onto greater heights of hilarity, the hysterics now a booming belly laugh which echoed all around them. The cloud above their heads was starting to separate, the portion above Malfoy lightening in colour dramatically when compared to that which was above Harry. _Great_ , thought Harry bemusedly, _I’m trapped in a lift with an obvious loon, a loon who I clearly tipped over the edge!_ There really wasn’t much he could do but wait for Malfoy to gain control of himself, and so waited he did.

“Sorry, Potter,” gasped Malfoy as he wiped tears out of his eyes with his sleeve. “I just had no idea!” Continuing to chuckle almost maniacally, he reached inside his robes and pulled out a small, but thick, notebook and proffered it towards Harry.

“This,” he explained gleefully, “is my _Potter Journal._ ”

“Your…?”

Incapable of finishing his sentence or making any kind of sense of what Malfoy just said, Harry reached forward for the notebook and opened it cautiously. _Holy mother of Merlin_ , thought Harry, as he flipped page after page of the notebook, his eyes reaching saucer-like proportions. All the while Malfoy sat grinning expectantly at him like the cat that got the cream!

“Godric! You’re just as bad as I am!” exclaimed Harry incredulously. Before he knew it, the lift was filled with the combined laughter of both men, both equally unable to believe the ridiculousness of the situation.

Once they had managed to hiccough themselves into some semblance of calm, Harry handed the _Potter Journal_ back to Malfoy and started to bundle all the pages of the ruined _Malfoy_ _File_. Once he had the file back in order, he shuffled over to sit next to Malfoy, both still sporting Cheshire cat grins.

“What I don’t get,” puzzled Harry, “is why you would bother writing anything about me in that thing in the first place.”

“What don’t you get about it? I notice you, you notice me, we both are equally obsessed and paranoid. End of. It’s not exactly advanced Arithmancy, now is it?” snarked Malfoy.

“No, I mean, I know why I’m obsessing over you, but why the hell would you bother with me? You’ve never given a crap about the fame thing, and you’ve never bothered to show much interest over the years except to get on my tits. I was just wondering why, is all.”

Malfoy seemed to ponder the question for a minute before answering in wry amusement. “I’m not really sure, except it’s always been about you. From that moment when you refused to shake my hand, my head’s been full of you. If you weren’t going to notice me as your friend, I was determined you would notice me another way. Taking the piss out of you got your attention and the love of my house. It was a win-win situation, really.”

“Why, though?” pressed Harry, somehow managing to look both amused and baffled.

Malfoy shook his head and smiled ruefully at Harry. “Nope, I’m not saying another word until you tell me why you were keeping that file on me. And don’t bother with that ‘it was in my head’ crap you spouted earlier. The actual real reason.”

The resultant silence stretched on for so long that Malfoy must have thought Harry would never answer. Finally, however, Harry mumbled, “Dumbledore.” The blank look Malfoy gave him in return seemed to spur a more explanatory answer from him. “Dumbledore kept things from me, and I knew it, but he swore he was on my side. He never really had my best interests at heart, and I just thought he was like Lupin and Sirius. You know, like a dad, I suppose.”

At this admission, Harry looked sharply at Malfoy as if daring him to poke fun. Malfoy, however, just looked pensive and waited for Harry to continue.

“I always wanted to please him, impress him. I trusted him so fucking much and he never, ever returned the favour. He raised me to fucking die, and never had the decency to be straight with me. At times, I still hate him more than I ever hated Voldemort.”

“Well, that well and truly sucks and all, Potter, but what does that have to do with me?” asked Malfoy.

“I’ve always been hyper aware of you. At first, it was because you were always in my way and being a prat and I just hated you so fucking much. But the older we got, the more I found myself obsessing over you. I told myself it was because I was sure you were up to no good. When I told Dumbledore, he told me I was wrong. He lied about everything else, so I just figured I would keep up on this, just in case.”

The two men locked gazes, and something undefinable and electric seemed to fizzle through them both.

“Also, you’re admittedly damn easy on the eyes and a surprisingly good fuck, Malfoy,” laughed Harry, relishing in the way Malfoy’s eyes first widened in surprise, then became hooded with something dark and hazy.

Just as Malfoy took a breath to speak, an announcement came over the Magi-tannoy.

_“Attention all Ministry employees. We are pleased to announce the Magical Maintenance department has managed to locate a possible counterspell to reactivate all lifts. The spell must be cast on each individual lift structure, and therefore we will be liberating lifts from the ground floor upwards. If you are trapped, please keep calm. The counterspell will be performed on your particular lift shortly. Please be patient. Thank you.”_

“Oh, thank fuck for that,” blurted Harry. “It’s been bloody hours!”

“And here I thought you were starting to enjoy my company,” teased Malfoy playfully.

“Yeah yeah, I’m just really starting to need to pee, and before you suggest it, there’s no way I’m simply vanishing it.”

“Scared you’ll vanish your dick along with it?” sniggered Malfoy.

“Pretty much,” affirmed Harry with a light laugh.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bloody desperate for a shower.”

“And dinner! And a fucking stiff drink,” added Harry.

“Circe, yes,” agreed Malfoy, rubbing his hands in anticipation of impending freedom.


	8. Whatever This Is

Not half an hour later, the lift doors opened in the Atrium, liberating one nervous Harry and one exhausted Malfoy, and two much lighter, slightly fluffy, and altogether pleasant, mood clouds. A few steps out of the lift, Harry and Malfoy stopped and looked at each other, both still sporting slightly goofy grins. However, before either man could say anything, a booming voice cut across the Atrium, closely followed by the bounding stride of its owner.

“Harry, over here, mate!” yelled Ron, as he jogged his way over to Harry’s side and clamped him in a manly back-thumping hug. “Merlin, your face is a mess, mate! When I heard you were stuck in there with Malfoy, I thought we would be carrying at least one of you out in a body bag!”

“It was a close call, to tell you the truth,” agreed Harry, as he looked back around for Malfoy. He had been right next to him just a second ago, and Harry wasn’t finished talking with him yet, not by a long chalk.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of platinum hair. Malfoy was headed towards the Apparition point.

“Ron, I need to go, I’ve got to do…something important.”

With that, Harry ran full pelt towards Malfoy, determined to head him off.

“Malfoy! Wait a second!” Malfoy stopped abruptly and turned, sporting an expression that was equal parts surprise and horror as Harry skidded to a halt just short of slamming bodily into him.

“Subtle, Potter. Real subtle.”

“I just wanted to talk to you…”

“About…?”

“Look, I know you’re going to say no, and you probably think I’m mad, and maybe I am. To be honest it’s a very real possibility, but…well, I really want to talk to you about…stuff, so, doyouwanttocomebacktomine?”

“What?”

Harry took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. _Come on, Gryffindor courage!_

“Do you want to come back to mine?”

“To yours,” Draco parotted.

“To talk,” clarified Harry.

“To talk,” repeated Draco.

“So, is that a yes?” demanded Harry, feeling more and more like an idiot with every passing second. Thankfully, Malfoy nodded his head in reply and held out his arm, apparently mute with shock. Harry swallowed audibly and grasped Malfoy’s forearm firmly. Electricity seemed to pass between them as they locked eyes, the moment seeming to last forever. Finally, Harry spun on his heel and Apparated them both away, leaving behind two very white clouds with spokes of sunshine peering out between the folds. As they vanished, Harry decided perhaps it was time to finally call him Draco.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of the [Seven Shades of Sin anthology](/series/1677472), a series of Drarry fics exploring the seven deadly sins.
> 
> There’s also a playlist created for this anthology that can be found [here on Spotify](https://spoti.fi/2Jg0tLy); seven songs for each of the seven fics included in the collection.


End file.
